The impact is gentle, but everything inside me jolts. My breath catches, not from surprise, but from relief. Like I’ve been holding something in all day, and finally get to let it out.
His hands are sure, his body solid against mine, and something in me melts. Not the soft, romantic kind of melting. The kind that’s all heat and ache and surrender, like my bones are gone and I don’t even care.
His mouth finds mine again, and it’s a different kiss than earlier, less sweet, more hungry, like the dam has broken and he needs this like air. My fingers grip his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive tux we already know won’t survive the night. And still, it’s not enough.
“Damn,” he murmurs against my jaw. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
“Little late for that,” I whisper, tugging his hair just the way he likes.
His mouth returns to mine, more demanding now, and I feel it, his need, his want, his love, all of it pouring into me like we might fall apart if we let go.
I don’t want to let go.
“You looked so sweet today,” he rasps against my ear. “But this…” he rocks into me just enough to make me whimper, “...this is the part I’ve been thinking about all damn day.”
His words make me melt.
And throb.
The zipper of my dress comes down with agonizing slowness, and he pushes it off my shoulders like he’s unwrapping something decadent. The fabric slips over my skin, cool against overheated flesh, and a shiver rakes down my spine, not from cold, but from the sheeranticipation.
I’m in lace and heels and breathless need, pulse fluttering everywhere. My skin feels electric, like every nerve ending is tuned to him. When his fingers skim down my sides, grazing the edge of my bra, I suck in a breath, sharp and involuntary. My thighs clench. My nipples tighten beneath the delicate lace like they know what's coming.
He trails lower, down to my hips, where he grips me harder than necessary, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp. It sends a jolt straight to my core. Hot, clenching, needy. Like my body’s screaming yes before I can even find the words.
My knees wobble. My breath stutters. Every part of me feels like it’s unraveling in his hands.
He presses his forehead to mine for half a second, eyes burning into mine like he’s trying to memorize this version of me, bare, flushed, aching for him.
“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Hands on the wall.”
The command makes my breath catch. My cheeks flush.
But I do it.
The moment my palms touch the wall, his hands are on my hips, his mouth trailing fire down my spine. He bites softly at my shoulder, groans when I arch into him, and palms my ass through my panties.
I’m soaked. Throbbing. Every breath is a ragged, needy thing. My hands press harder to the wall just to keep me upright, because my legs are already unsteady, and we’ve barely started.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You’ve been killing me in this dress.”
“And now it’s off,” I whisper, breath hitching. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
Knox groans, deep and wrecked, like the sound is torn straight from his chest. His fingers flex on my hips, like he’s barely holding himself back.
He hooks his fingers into the lace and drags it down my thighs in one smooth motion. His mouth is back on me, kissing and biting the curve of my ass, down the back of my thigh, until my knees nearly give out.
I feel like I’m unraveling from the inside out.
The air feels thick, electric, like everything between us is coiled and about to snap. Every inch of skin he touches feels branded, every kiss leaves me panting, dizzy with the weight of him.
My heart pounds in my ears. My thighs clench. I can feel the wet heat of my own arousal, and it only makes me needier.
He hasn’t even touched me where I’m aching yet, and I already feel ruined.
And Iloveit.
“Bed,” he says. “Now.”
